The Black Madonna (The Mystique Trilogy) Read online

  To Chez,

  Thanks for providing a sanctuary

  for my well-being and creativity.

  I could never have completed this trilogy

  without you.

  Table of Contents

  Cover Page

  Dedication

  List of Characters

  A Note from the Author, Mia Devere

  Part 1 The Absent Prince

  Chapter 1 Triogenes—Montségur

  Chapter 2 Kali’s Mission

  Chapter 3 Soul Trade

  Chapter 4 The Time Lord

  Chapter 5 Compromised

  Chapter 6 Thoth—Giza

  Chapter 7 Strange Aura

  Chapter 8 Inter-Dimensional Terrorism

  Chapter 9 Arlis-Cochizel—Land’s End

  Chapter 10 Blindsided

  Chapter 11 Crafty Women

  Chapter 12 Two Princes

  Chapter 13 Ill Will

  Part 2 Timewalkers

  Chapter 14 Sophia-Hokhmat—Nova Scotia

  Chapter 15 The Dreamkeeper—Australia

  Chapter 16 Descent Into the Underworld

  Chapter 17 Hathor—Mount Shasta

  Chapter 18 Deceiving Appearances

  Chapter 19 Irkalla

  Chapter 20 Montauk—Long Island

  Chapter 21 Points of Interface

  Chapter 22 The Recruit

  Chapter 23 Enoch—New Mexico

  Chapter 24 Hell Of Eternal Sleep And Darkness

  Chapter 25 Xerthaneus—Antarctica

  Chapter 26 Taming The Shrew

  Part 3 Quantum Warfare

  Chapter 27 Sphere Of The Blue Flame

  Chapter 28 Psychosis

  Chapter 29 The Peace Project

  Chapter 30 Covert Operations

  Chapter 31 Rainbow Round Table

  Chapter 32 Defeating Fate

  Chapter 33 The Descending Spiral—2976 AD

  Chapter 34 Sleeping Beauty

  Chapter 35 Ice Breaking

  Chapter 36 Meltdown

  Chapter 37 The Ascending Spiral—2017 AD

  Chapter 38 Star-Crossed Lover?

  Chapter 39 The Draconesses

  Chapter 40 Passive Force

  Chapter 41 Unity

  Chapter 42 Micro-Death

  Chapter 43 Macro-Life

  Chapter 44 End of the Rift

  Epilogue

  Glossary

  Bibliography

  Internet References

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Books by Traci Harding

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  LIST OF CHARACTERS

  The Staff of Amenti

  DEXTER aka Taylor

  VESPERA aka Ajalae Koriche

  ARCTURUS aka Albray Devere

  MERIDAN aka Mia Devere (Montrose)

  POLARIS aka Captain Sinclair; Earnest Devere

  SOLARIAN aka Ashlee Granville-Devere

  LEVI aka Levi Granville-Devere

  THANA aka Lillet du Lac

  CASTOR aka King Arthur; James Devere

  TALORI aka Susan Devere

  ZALMAN aka Akbar

  DENERA aka Lillith; Lady Charlotte Cavandish

  KALI aka Tamar Devere

  MATHU aka Thoth; Hermes

  The Nefilim

  ILL aka Enlil—Lord of the Nefilim

  ERRAGAL aka Jeb Savage—Lord of the Underworld

  NAMTAR aka Morell Labontè—Viceroy of the Underworld

  ERESHKIGAL aka Co-co Yamamoto—Queen of the Underworld

  ISHTAR aka Sabine Labontè—Goddess of Desire

  ISHKUR aka ‘Wildcat’ Steve Marx—Storm God

  The Smiter

  The Anu

  Lugh Lamhfada

  Ki aka En Ki, the Sanat Kumara

  Sud aka Ninlil

  The Dracon

  Taejax

  Pax

  Jinx

  Rattus

  Ruffinnic

  Jezabel

  Angelica

  Site Crew—Montségur

  André Pierre, site chief

  Dr Colin Rich, project anthropologist

  Emmett Rich, Dr Rich’s son

  Killian Labontè, project benefactor

  The Guardians of the Seven Gates of Hell

  Shock

  Denial

  Anger

  Unfinished Business

  Depression

  Acceptance

  Death

  Additional Character

  Sharon, Killian’s assistant

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR, MIA DEVERE

  Time has no meaning for me any more. I have been backwards and forwards through history so often that past and future have melded into an all-consuming now.

  The time lines of the physical world are precarious and liable to change at the slightest provocation. We, the staff of Amenti—designers of Earth’s evolutionary scheme—knew this before we agreed to take part in the Amenti Project. What we did not anticipate was this: that our antagonists here on Earth would devise their own means to move through time and alter history.

  Hence, the staff of Amenti have become humanity’s mercenaries in the resulting inter-time war. Ancient time zones, and those in the distant future, are no longer accessible to us or to our adversaries, as time is collapsing from both the alpha and omega ends of its flimsy existence.

  A crisis point will be reached at midnight on 21 December of this year, 2017—the moment of judgement that psychics and prophets have been predicting for aeons. For the majority of people living on this planet, it will pass unnoticed. It will not be marked by fire and brimstone falling from the sky, or plagues, or the hand of God crushing us all from on high—all that will come, but later.

  That crisis point moment is humanity’s last chance to open the gateway home to the multi-dimensional universe from whence we originally came and were so unfairly torn. The fate of all rests upon the vibrational frequency of humanity’s combined consciousness at this time and, despite our ignorance, we will be judged.

  Our Earth is dying. It is being murdered by the hidden enemies of humanity who hope to enslave us. All they have to do is keep us preoccupied, greedy and self-obsessed until the current Stellar Activation Cycle ends. This Stellar Activation Cycle (SAC), which began on 21 December 2012—the end of the Mayan calendar—is when Earth aligns with its higher planetary bodies in the harmonic universes and the stargates to these universes open. It is an ascension event that only happens for five years in every twenty-five thousand. If we do not succeed in opening the Halls of Amenti then, our last chance to escape this dying planet will be lost. All life on Earth—including those of us who volunteered to be guardians of this project—shall perish.

  With only eight months remaining, the staff of Amenti have several concerns, but none so pressing as the full reactivation of all twelve stations in the Earth’s Signet Grid. It is hoped that the combined energy and inspiration of the fully functional Signet Grid will be enough to raise the planetary consciousness of the Earth to a level where it might again host the Sphere of Amenti.

  All but one of the fourteen soul minds of Amenti’s staff are now fully aware and have taken up their positions on the Amenti Project. Naturally the disappearance of one of our staff members, Mathu, is another grave concern. For without all fourteen members of our team there shall be no going home for any of us.

  The thirteen souls with whom I share my destiny—Polaris and Solarian, Talori and Castor, Vespera and Dexter, Levi and Thana, Denera and Zalman, Kali and Mathu, and my partner, Arcturus—have been my dearest friends, my family, my lovers and children throughout every major incarnation I have en
dured in Earth’s evolutionary scheme.

  It is no accident that I am the sixth and last of the Dragon Queens to have been born, or that it has fallen to me to compile and record our secret history. For I am the key-holder to Signet Station Twelve, named Triogenes, which resonates with the frequency of ‘the storyteller’.

  Due to the constant time-hopping activities of my fellow Amenti members and myself, it will be near impossible to form a straight time line of events. But I shall endeavour to do so with a little help from my daughter, Tamar, now better known to the staff of Amenti as Kali, and my sisters: Solarian, the once prolific Ashlee Granville-Devere; and Talori, who has also contributed to our family histories in her lifetime as Lady Susan Devere.

  Since taking up my position on the staff of Amenti, I have been telepathically linked to the other six females on the staff, known in legend as the Dragon Queens. And so it is that my Dragon sisters can lend to me their perspective of events so that I may set pen to paper again to record this final chapter in the history of the Grail bloodline.

  PART 1

  THE ABSENT PRINCE

  CHAPTER 1

  TRIOGENES—MONTSÉGUR

  In cycles the legends come forth,

  each with its own cast of characters,

  incorporated into a work without beginning or end,

  but forever perpetuating new stories.

  In myth, they are the keys to the creation process,

  to the great mysteries of creation and humanity.

  Imagination flows from the Triogenes,

  not bound by space or time,

  to be entered as desired

  by any soul mind with the patience to listen

  to the flow of creation.

  For in truth,

  all is myth,

  myth is all.

  I was lost in contemplation out the window of the private aircraft that was carrying me towards my Signet station at Montségur.

  It felt rather surreal to be embarking on my first official mission as an Amenti staff member, along with my husband, Albray—Amenti code name Arcturus—and our thirteen-year-old daughter, Tamar. Our task was to secure and open my Signet station, for an archaeological excavation had broken through to its outer labyrinth and, although there was no chance of anyone finding the station hidden within, we did not wish to attract any attention to the area. It was our job to keep any discoveries made beneath Montségur under wraps.

  As fate would have it, the head excavator at Montségur, André Pierre, was an old friend and admirer of my translation skills of ancient languages. So when the project leaders broke through to the labyrinth and discovered ancient text therein, their first call was to me, to assist with translation. The excavation project had found symbols associated with the Knights Templar, side by side with well-known emblems of the Cathars—much like those found nearby in the grottoes of Sabarthez. Hence my husband had also been invited to join the excavation project due to his expertise on the period that had seen the demise of the Cathars. Of course, the fact that Albray had actually been there to witness the burning fields of Montségur in the thirteenth century had a bit to do with his knowledge.

  Dangerous circumstances lay ahead of us, hardly the kind of situation that most parents would choose to lead their teenage daughter into—but then Tamar was no ordinary teenager.

  On Tamar’s thirteenth birthday, her biological clock triggered the integration of her consciousness with the advanced extraterrestrial soul mind of the Anunnaki Queen Kali, who had been lying dormant in our daughter’s non-coding DNA since her conception. In less than a week Tamar developed into a mature woman, more beautiful, more intelligent and infinitely more powerful than any other being on Earth.

  This would have been truly horrifying for me to witness had a prophetess not given me prior warning of the event, and still I was finding the adjustment far more difficult than my daughter was. The part of me that was Mia Devere, Tamar’s human biological mother, was compelled to question, challenge and teach her. The part of me that was my higher self, Meridan, mistrusted the Anunnaki race, of which Kali was queen, for their offences against humanity both in this universal dimension and the next.

  Few traces of my little girl were still apparent in the woman I now saw when I looked at Tamar. Her long, straight, near-black hair she had inherited from her father, but her once brown eyes had now turned a deep shade of violet and her skin was darker, more akin to the Anunnaki. Her tall, slender form made her appear a little fragile, and her outer beauty stopped traffic, yet she had the psychic power and physical capability to destroy the most hardened and skilled warriors.

  Our fellow staff members suspected that the Montségur project was being secretly backed by our foe, the Nefilim, or their Illuminati operatives, and Tamar’s purpose on this mission was to sniff out any Nefilim involvement. Albray and I had been given very strict instructions to give her a free rein; despite any parental instinct we might feel, we were not to question her methods.

  I was a little perturbed about the black mini-dress and high heels Tamar had decided to wear today—André Pierre was a renowned womaniser, and the outfit made her look as if she’d just stepped off a catwalk in Milan. When I mentioned this, Tamar only grinned.

  ‘All the easier for me to siphon information from him. The majority of human males are easily manipulated by their desires, and this is doubly true of Nefilim males,’ she said.

  ‘Am I supposed to find that reassuring?’ Albray lowered his paper to have a quiet word. ‘This body is my daughter’s temple, so do try to be a little selective about who worships it. Please, Kali,’ he added, realising that she was no longer bound to listen to him or follow his advice.

  ‘As there is only one being in this entire evolutionary scheme that I hold the slightest desire for, you need have no fear on that count,’ Tamar assured him. ‘You must trust that I know what I’m doing. No one knows the Nefilim like I do.’

  I sensed my husband felt a little silly at having pulled her up.

  ‘In that case…go get ‘em, sweetheart,’ he said. ‘Let me know if you need a hand at any time.’

  ‘I will,’ she promised, with a huge adoring smile, and Albray returned to his reading and I turned my gaze back out the window to the runway below.

  André Pierre met us at Toulouse airport in the project chopper. He was the best excavation manager in the business—if he couldn’t unearth an archaeological find intact, then no one could.

  My French friend removed his sunglasses when he saw my daughter coming. ‘Who is this beauty?’ he said with a smile, then recognised Tamar and burst out laughing. ‘Tamar! Could it have been so long? I thought you were still a…’ he searched for the word, ‘adolescent. You look fantastique!’

  He kissed both her cheeks and held her closer than usual.

  ‘Just celebrated her thirteenth birthday a couple of weeks ago,’ my husband informed him, and the embrace abruptly ended.

  ‘How cruel life is.’ André turned down the charm a little, but desire was in his eyes. He greeted Albray briefly before turning his attention my way.

  ‘Mia, my goddess, you look beyond fantastique.’ He held both my shoulders, kissed each of my cheeks in turn and then held me at arm’s length to admire my form. ‘I swear you look younger every time I see you.’

  I was perpetually thirty since I had walked the Halls of Amenti thirteen years ago; thus I appeared barely older than my rapidly maturing daughter.

  ‘And you are more in need of a wife every time I see you, mon ami.’ I held André’s face between my hands and shook it. ‘You look a mess.’

  I was referring to his unshaven, unkempt appearance. Tamar and Albray had a quiet chuckle at how quickly I’d brought André’s amorous advances under control.

  ‘I’ve been down a hole for weeks,’ he said defensively, backing away. He ran one hand over his unpressed clothes, and with the other combed his shoulder-length, unwashed, mousy-brown hair behind his ears.

  ‘You’re n
ot eating properly either.’ My mothering tone served to remind the Frenchman that I was married with a child, whilst assuring him that I did still care about his welfare.

  ‘I’ve been busy.’ He smiled. ‘You know how it is. I get distracted.’

  ‘It must be exciting for you to be working in France for a change.’ I began fishing for information as we waited for our baggage to be loaded on board the chopper by the ground crew. ‘Is the project funded by the French as well?’

  ‘This project was the brainchild of a man by the name of Labontè,’ André said. ‘You may have heard of—’

  ‘The mining and media magnate Morell Labontè?’ I queried. I’d never heard anything about the wealthy tycoon’s interest in archaeology; goldmining was what he was known for.

  ‘No,’ André corrected, ‘his son, Killian—’

  ‘The thrill-seeking, socialite playboy?’ Tamar butted in, having read about Killian Labontè’s exploits in teen mags.

  ‘En effet,’ André confirmed. ‘He has a very keen interest in the occult and in the Holy Grail in particular.’

  ‘He’s following Otto Rahn’s theory that the Grail was hidden beneath Montségur by the Cathars,’ I guessed, and glanced at Albray. He looked amused, for he had been the knight who had helped in sneaking Montségur’s sacred treasures from the mount.

  ‘The Grail itself may not be hidden beneath the mount of Montségur,’ André said, ‘but it is certainly an area where the Grail legends converge and our employer is paying us to discover why.’

  ‘Hey, if there’s a good pay cheque in it…’ My husband shrugged, playing up his scepticism.

  ‘Labontè’s hunches have proven excellent so far,’ André said, suggesting we not pass judgement until we had seen the find for ourselves.

  The excavation site was rather larger than I had expected. Labontè’s team had unearthed the remains of a thirteenth-century village at the base of the mountain and re-opened a secret cave, the entrance to which had collapsed centuries ago.